A Cat's Tale
by Catty Engles
Summary: Starfire and Robin may have their work cut out for them when a reporter drives a stake into their budding relationship. Also: Some diabolical plots, sharp tongues, and Red X marks the spot
1. Exposition Expedition

A Cat's Tale  
  
By: Catty Engles Reporter for the Daily Gazette and very annoyed one at that  
  
Edition First: Exposition Expedition  
  
Once Upon a Time there was a beautiful princess who wore only the best of gowns, ate the finest of foods, and was courted by the handsomest princes. She lived in a castle with fourteen towers and a dining hall bigger than the village square.  
  
But this is not her story.  
  
I am stickish with big eyes but small lips and nose- pretty enough. I wear department store closeouts, eat Chinese Takeout each night, and the guy in the cubicle by the window with the dandruff clouds around his shoulders keeps shooting me furtive glances over his inch thick glasses. I live on the fourteenth floor and share a bathroom with all the rest of that floor's residents.  
  
Nice to meet you, I'm Catty Engles, assistant intern to the Daily Gazette. That's said in a nice way, the girl who gets the jobs the stuffed shirt fast-talking megalomaniacal clock-pushing penny-grubbing bosses shovel out to those unfortunate enough to be under them in the economical food chain. Not only is the view _less_ than appealing, these are mostly documentaries. Nasty documentaries that are usually followed by lawsuits, appeals, and hush money.  
  
_Crunch_ _Crunch_ _Crunch_. Gravel. You'd think the Teen Titans could come up with something a bit more glamorous. Oh yes, I've heard of them, what struggling, dirt-poor intern who's been kicked in the seat of the mini- skirt one too many times hasn't? The corny catchphrases, the superpowers, but above all the melodramatics of adolescents living by themselves. Any self-respecting city would send over a squadron of heavily armed social security workers and ship these kiddies off to Toxic Control- express mail.  
  
But no. They sent _me_.  
  
So here I'm standing at the base of the most ostentatious trademark this side of Barney, they call it the T-Tower, waiting for one of the Fab Five to open the door. Waiting does not suit any reporter be it me or the big cheese, Slick Boulderdash. He's the big shot gone to seed, but still convinces himself he looks good in Armani. He wears the three-piece suit with pinz nez glasses balanced on his lump of a nose. His sausage roll fingers ruffled papers on his desk when he summoned me into his office. He coughed wetly and importantly as he bestowed upon me the knowledge of my fate. To interview the Titans. I swear, the look on his face could be compared to Santa Clause pulling an extra large package out of his sack.  
  
I ruffle my short-cropped brown bob, smooth my eyebrows, check my teeth for lipstick in the handheld- he wanted the dirt. Slick was looking for a new angle on the Titans. Superhuman Teen Wonders was exhausted. He wanted the grit on the group, and I was the lowlife who would give it to him- for a price.  
  
At the office I'm not much of a worthwhile, must keep kind of gal, but my ace in the hole is computer skills. This manifests itself usually in the form of the copy machine. Whenever it needs new ink, new paper, or is just outright jammed I'm the girl all the workers track down. I'm just good with electronics, too bad no one realizes that this could be a worthwhile must keep kind of skill.  
  
Boy, these kids could be CEOs at the rate they answer their door. Click. The door opens. Okay, well, IRS reimbursement statements at the least. Take a big breath Miss Catty, and watch your journalism degree rot in the squalor of-  
  
"Hello, I'm Catty Engles, reporter for the Daily Gazette. I'm here for the documentary appointment." Oh no it's that green boy. He looks like I've just handed him a trigonometric ratio.  
  
"Uh, hi, I'm Beastboy." His voice is grainy and squeaky at the same time, the sound of recent breaking. Sheesh, how old are these kids, really?  
  
"Of course, I know who you are!" Condescending yet flirtatious at the same time, best way to keep professionally provocative. Forget the stomach, ladies, precedent tells us to shoot straight for the hormones.  
  
"So BB, is that okay if I call you that?" No pause, it's a reporter thing, "The whole town knows who you are, what you do, how you fight, what you're like, do you ever feel like you're living in a-"  
  
_CRASH. _

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* * *

_   
  
Haha, that was long but at least it was boring. Don't worry, like the title says this is exposition, action does come later. Hint hint, don't forget about the mini-recorder. 


	2. The Turning Point

A Cat's Tale  
  
By: Catty Engles Reporter for the Daily Gazette  
  
Edition Second: The Turning Point  
  
CRASH.  
  
I jump, startled. Oh damn, the mini-recorder! I switch it on, thankful I didn't forget. Slick is just a coronary ready to happen and my slip up could cause him hypertension and possibly weeks in traction. Ah yes, when Santa Clause pulled that extra present out of his sack he left the price tag on it. I wouldn't be completing this job alone. I was just Recon. The serious writers would get the credit. And maybe if I was lucky I'd be able to get a paycheck that could ship me out of "community bathroom."  
  
Beastboy didn't notice the subtle switch-on motion, and with good reason, the source of the crash is barreling towards us.  
  
He's huge and half-machine. The kind of guy girls don't feel safe around without their pepper spray. I fingered mine lovingly through the threadbare vinyl of my purse.  
  
"Someone's totaled the PS2, and it has scratch marks on it." Cue chase music, metal-head looks fit to burst. He blows a gasket, literally. "What?" The hulking hunk of hardware glances at his arm as a thin stream of steam emits from under the casing. And in pure manly fix-it situations begins enthusiastically pounding his arm. My eyes widen as the pounding grows louder.  
  
"Cyborg!" A girl. She's flying. "You're scaring the pretty lady!" Lady? I bristle behind my plastered smile. I'm an intern. I'm not much older than she is, maybe even younger! Wait, did she call me pretty? "Oh come in please! I have just commenced the steaming of Exterian Slort Worms, you must sample some...?" She looks at me expectantly.  
  
"Catty Engles." I supply. "I'm here to ask you a little bit about your life." Cyborg extends a hand, all his anger towards BB and his arm forgotten and a big smile on his face. The flying girl, Starfire I assume, is squirming- with joy. Are these people insane?! Do they realize how many mega-buck hotshots that I've interviewed were fingering their lawyer's speed-dial button by now? The name Daily Gazette strikes fear into the hardiest of scandal concealers.  
  
My hand disappears inside Cyborg's, and even though it's metal, I feel a sort of gentleness as he leads me by the kitchen to the sitting area. He doesn't seem too concerned with the arm incident. "We shall congregate on the couch." Starfire chirps.  
  
"Robin, Raven, we have a guest!" She practically sings.  
  
Ah, this is what I've been waiting for. As we round the corner, I catch my first glimpse of the epitome of raw sex appeal- according to the average teenybopper of Jump City. He's lying sprawled on the couch snarfing curly fries.  
  
I can't recall how many Teengirl magazine issues have had a Robin cover article, Robin star-sign match-up, Robin pro/con analysis, and Robin in-depth biography. Somehow I believe all have failed to mention curly fries.  
  
From what I've read of him, Robin is an intense little boy, the only one of the team lacking superpowers, but also the prominent leader. He's got a drive the size of Slick's wallet and "hands-off" attitude to match. His collected and cool but his aloof temperance is what always makes the already swooning populace gush ten-fold. Gallantly, he wipes his hand before offering it to me.  
  
"Robin." He says with the tone of someone who's been swooned at too many times, and wishes it wouldn't happen again but is too polite to be completely stand-offish.  
  
"Catty." I say in the same tone, a barely perceptible smile tugging at my lips, I've used that voice many times before as well.  
  
Before Robin's little jolt of recognition fully registers on his face, a new face pops- well I shouldn't say pops, it was more like looms- through the door.  
  
"Who's this." The Webster Grammatical Dictionary would tell us this statement should be a question. This girl, who by process of elimination I'm assuming is Raven, obviously hasn't read it. Her stare, as well as her question, is like ice and has the emotion to match it. But I get that everyday from the janitor.  
  
"I'm Catty, reporter from the Daily Gazette." I drop my last name. It's weird to have one when the team seems to scorn the use of them.  
  
As the Titans assemble on the couch I realize how much I've already let slip. My professional detached attitude is crumbling by the barrage of their friendliness. These kids really are teenagers, but different in a way. They move with the sinewy ease of practiced fighters, even Beastboy the least in stature but biggest in mouth has a sort of capable holding of his body contrary to the long-limbed awkwardness synonymous with adolescents.  
  
They're completely complimentary to each other. Even in the mundane congregating on the couch they each seem to unconsciously recognize each other's needs and act on it. Raven's preference for the corner seat. Starfire's need for companionship, placing her between Robin and Beastboy. Robin farther from me and Beastboy closer- a nod to his want for attention.  
  
Cyborg settles where he can survey everyone, next to Raven. It occurs to me that Cyborg is the ultimate big brother opposed to my first impressions of him. Big and brawny, he's center material for the next super-human football team. His easy laugh and easier smile endear him in a way that not just any hunk of crushing metal and rippling pectorals could hope to be endeared.  
  
Well, they're settled, time to get things started. Five minutes ago I would be groaning at the thought of talking to them and now- me, the street- hardened Catty- is ... endeared.  
  
What is this world coming to?  
  
I adjust my hair and open my mouth to speak.  
  
The high-tech monitor that is worth more than my life's pay flicks on in a corner of the room. The already dim interior flickers with static shadows crackling across our faces. And with my eyes wide and my mouth still open I stare as the static fades and is replaced with angry red metal and a single eye peering from unfathomable depths.  
  
Robin is at the monitor's side in seconds, straining with all his being to listen. Raven, Starfire, and Beast Boy were close behind but Cyborg looks at me as if he had seen a ghost.  
  
The static completely fades and a monotone voice with the barest infliction of smugness reverberates around the room as the metal monster began to speak.  
  
"Good evening, Titans."

* * *

Ah ha, we have established a plot. 


	3. A Glimpse of the Beyond

A Cat's Tale  
  
By: Catty Engles Reporter for the Daily Gazette  
  
Edition Third: Glimpse of the Beyond

"Good evening, Titans."  
  
"Slade." Spits Robin, "What do you want?"  
  
"Only a moment of your time that is the beginning of the end for the Titans."  
  
At first I think this is some elaborate prank and keep waiting for someone to yell "April Fools!" Cyborg is still gaping like he's seen a ghost. He's mouthing something to me. I squint in the artificial light, trying to make out the words. His one good eye rolls wildly and he starts to twitch spasmodically. He tries to keep eye contact and his mouth is still moving in that same sequence of words. A gasp gets caught in my throat and I choke on it. My whole body is trembling, I never bargained for this. It's all real. It must be.  
  
"You have something that I want, and I'm tired of waiting." The voice continues, "I thought I'd give you the- what do you like to say? - heads up. You will be one person short in the morning, and then I'll have what I've wanted for so long. Oh, but first I'd like to give my regrets to Cyborg, though a strong member of the team, he is not the one that I am concerned with."  
  
The screen flickers and then dies, it seems as if Cyborg dies with it. The quivering mass of muscle goes limp and his head falls back onto the cushion. The Titans seem to notice Cyborg's dilemma the moment it is too late for them to do anything. My breath comes in little gasps and I whimper into my hands. Tears sting my eyes. What's happening? What's going on? I need to get out of here! I'm not any sort of superhero! This is not- _NOT_ what I thought this interview would be like!  
  
"Cyborg!" Starfire and Robin rush to Cyborg's side. Raven crumples to the floor holding her head. Beastboy steadies her as cushions surrounded by black fire shoot across the room.  
  
"Control it, Raven! Conquer your emotions! Cyborg is going to be all right!" Beastboy shouts above the whirring mass of cushions ripping themselves to shreds and then ricocheting around the room. Raven stands up abruptly, intoning some words of power I didn't quite catch. It seems to stop the cushions and relieves a terrible amount of tension that had built up quickly in the room. Beastboy leads her to a seat farther away from the dangerously still Cyborg.  
  
Starfire is weeping openly over Cyborg's body, grasping his arm and pleading with him to get up. Beastboy leaves a relatively-in-control Raven and rushes to Robin's side. "What is it? What happened?"  
  
"Don't know." Robin is fiddling with the metal man's mechanical parts. "He's still alive-" A cushion reassembles itself near my foot and Starfire hiccups a little sniffle of delight. "-I just don't know what happened. His mechanical systems have totally collapsed. The only way to get him back is a total recall."  
  
Beastboy looks at Robin seriously, "Tell us now in plain English what are you going to have to do?"  
  
Robin sighs, "He's still online and the only way to fix, at least the only way I think we can fix ... I've never seen Cyborg do this before! Oh, sure his batteries have run out but nothing like this. We're going to have to reboot him completely and that can be mortally dangerous."  
  
"But what are you going to do?" Beastboy demands.  
  
"Shut him down."  
  
"But you can't do that!" Beastboy, Raven, and Starfire look beseechingly at Robin. "All of his necessary systems are linked to his mechanics, if he's totally off-line he might ... might die!"  
  
Raven straightens her cloak around her. "We don't even know what Slade has done to him. We might be playing right into his hands."  
  
"Or we might be saving Cyborg's life!" Starfire passionately intercedes.  
  
Robin stands resolutely beside Cyborg, "Whatever we do, we have to do it now. Already we've endangered him too long. Are you guys going to help me or not?" Raven and Beastboy shoot each other glances.  
  
"I'm in."  
  
"Me too."  
  
Robin eases Cyborg off the couch and onto the floor. He pushes the metal man onto his stomach and carefully opens the coating of metal on his back. "Beastboy, hold his head, we can't let any thrashing damage his spine or neck and then make our efforts useless. Starfire, can you keep him warm?" The alien girl nods assurance and presses glowing green hands to the bare flesh of his arm. "Raven I need your sight." Raven slowly makes her way across the room to Robin and places her hands on his shoulders.  
  
"Robin," Raven instructs, "Do you realize what you are asking?" Robin nods. "If you really want to try this you can't fight me. It could hurt, I really don't know, but if you fight back something could go very wrong. Now, tell me what you want me to do."  
  
Starfire looks up from her task, "Robin, what are you doing?"  
  
Robin takes a big breath to steady himself, ignoring Starfire's question. "We have got to find some kind of mechanism that can trigger a rebooting."  
  
"Raven, what's happening, what's going on?!" Beastboy demands.  
  
"Right. Just relax, Robin, deep breaths." Raven tightens her hold on Robin's shoulders and he grits his teeth. She intones her words of power. Black fire surrounds Raven's figure and tendrils of it break away from her and weave their way down Robin's chest, finally centering on his hands. Robin's mouth opens in a silent scream of anguish and his breathing becomes fast and labored as the tendrils surround his fingers and seep into him. The boy throws his head back and squinches up his eyes against the pain. Raven's knees give out behind him, her breath also coming hard. She gives a final push to the tiny strings of smoky black fire and they disappear into Robin's hands. Finally, she collapses.

* * *

I doubt any of you were expecting _that_! Okay well, see that little button on the bottom left corner of the screen? Aren't you just itching to push it? C'mon tell me what you think in a nice luscious review. 


	4. Deeper Doodoo

A quick author's note directed at ICTOAN: The story, actually, is totally complete. I'm just spacing the chapters to my liking (and to most potential reviewer material- tehe). I'm still fooling around with the ending, but basically it's all typed and there. So chapter sizes are not getting any bigger but you can count on one every day (but only if Soccer Conditioning does not completely kill my muscles- heh) Without futher ado, on with the show!

A Cat's Tale  
  
By: Catty Engles Reporter for the Daily Gazette  
  
Edition Fourth: Deeper Doodoo  
  
Finally, Raven collapses.  
  
Beastboy and Starfire have watched with just as much intensity as I have. Robin seems fine, only panting. Raven is completely out. At that moment, I didn't think; I just acted. I was down on my knees beside the girl, propping the reassembled cushion under her back to promote airflow, checked her vitals and then gave the thumbs up to Beastboy and Starfire. They both look extremely relieved. They were reluctant to abandon their tasks for fear of Cyborg's well being. It seems they had forgotten me, but I didn't blame them.  
  
I didn't notice, but Robin had begun "surgery" on Cyborg. With the intensity borne of extreme concentration, he had pried bundles of wire aside, revealing a tiny keyboard with a tinier screen. He takes a deep gulp of air as his hands glow a faint black and begin to move of their own accord. Carefully plucking individual wires out of the way, his deft hands guided by Raven's magic reach a green one near the back of Cyborg's chest cavity. The glowing hands give the wire a tiny twist.  
  
Cyborg's head jerks in Beastboy's hands as he struggles for purchase on the floor behind him. Starfire gives up trying to keep the metal man warm and clamps onto his shoulders exerting pressure while in flight, trying with all her might to keep him on the floor. The tiny monitor Robin had uncovered flickers on. A single word is on the display screen.  
  
Password? Followed by a blinking cursor. Robin stops, looking confused. Cyborg suddenly goes ominously still- he's off-line. Starfire and Beastboy exchange worried glances, still anxious about leaving their posts. Suddenly Robin explodes.  
  
"Password? What password! I just want you to live!" He screams.  
  
And then everything made sense. I shove Robin aside, taking his place at the controls and quickly type "Cyborg is Gamestation Master" and press enter.  
  
For one agonizing moment Cyborg lays still, all the breathing in the room stops until abruptly one starts. Cyborg takes his first gasp of air and rolls over to victorious cheers from all the Titans including Raven, er, kind of including Raven. Well, revived, she smiles from her position on the floor at least.  
  
Before Cyborg knows it, he is on the floor with Starfire and Beastboy jumping all over him. Robin helps him back up, pounding his back enthusiastically. Raven smiles awkwardly at him, and extends her hand for a congratulatory handshake. Cyborg, instead, sweeps her up into a huge embrace and whirls her around. When she is set down, her stony temperance is back in place and with a vengeance though her cheeks are filled with a happy blush and her hair is uncommonly ruffled.  
  
"Cyborg! We thought we lost you!" Beastboy is still bouncing. He just doesn't seem to be able to sit still, like some kind of perverted Jell- O.  
  
"Oh, how wonderful that you are unharmed!" Starfire, as well, is zipping around the room.  
  
Cyborg walks towards me purposefully and places a heavy but gentle hand on my shoulder, "Thank you, Catty Engles."  
  
"You're welcome, Gamestation Master." He smiles appreciatively and leans back, removing his hand.  
  
"Uh, dude, what...?" Beastboy settles down enough to ask.  
  
"My shut-down sequence was encrypted. You aren't supposed to be able to log me off without my consent and the password was just the way to do it. I was able to get the message to Catty, here, as I was realizing I was going haywire." He was right. Mouthing the words to me was ingenious, just in case this "surgery" was necessary. He deserves more credit than I initially gave him.  
  
"But I was able to shut you down without the password." Robin cocks an eyebrow, er, mask, er something, but he has a puzzled expression on his face.  
  
"With my help." Raven interceded.  
  
Cyborg nodded, "Well there's your answer. Raven's powers are too good for any type of computer to withstand. My systems must have jump- started when you tried to reboot me and asked for the password then. I'm glad you didn't try Raven's powers again- that could leave serious damage." They all nod, fully aware of the "_damage_" Cyborg would have undergone without Raven's powers.  
  
"Yeah, what was all that about- with the powers and the holding Robin's shoulders and the little string things and ... and all...?" Beastboy finishes pathetically.  
  
Robin half-grins at Raven, "It was something we had been working on. I wanted Raven to push her powers to the limit and she needed some kind of vessel to do that. We had never actually tried it before- but we had talked it all out. I knew it was _relatively_ safe" He flashes a debonair grin that was directed at an anxiously hovering Starfire. She returns it immediately, satisfied that her friends were not in any real danger.  
  
Just then, the lights flicker and die. Almost immediately a flashlight unfolds from Cyborg's shoulder and we are bathed in a thin stream of light. "What the?" Cyborg bounds over to a circuit board mounted on the wall. He presses buttons, turns knobs, and throws levers all of which amounts to nothing.  
  
"Cyborg, what's happening?" Robin commands.  
  
"Nothing's responding- it's like... no." He shakes his head like trying to clear fog from his vision.  
  
"Like what?"  
  
"Like the system has been hacked. Like everything is suddenly not controlled by the T-Tower but someone else is holding the dice. _Nothing_ is responding."

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Please review, even if it's just to tell me that you are reading. Nothing is too stupid to say. You liked a joke? Tell me. You thought there should be a giant gopher introduced? Tell me! My people will get with your people and we'll work it out. Happy reviewing!


	5. One Person Short

A Cat's Tale  
  
By: Catty Engles Reporter for the Daily Gazette  
  
Edition Fourth: One Person Short  
  
"Nothing is responding."  
  
A chill passes through the group and Slade's words are remembered even more clearly. I check my light up sports watch. It reads 11:22 PM. "You will be one person short in the morning." Starfire repeats grimly. "Robin he must be talking about you. It is known well that you are the object of his obsessions and he desires you as a partner. We must get you away from here or at least protect you from his attempt of capture."  
  
"Star's right you know, Robin. Who else would he really want?" Cyborg speaks up. Beastboy goes panther, improving his night vision. He slinks off down the hall towards the exit. Moments later he's running back.  
  
"They're locked! All the doors! I can't get them to operate at all!" He pants. My throat goes dry. This is like some freak horror-film with bad backers and crappy equipment. Now the psycho killer will begin to pick us off, one by one.  
  
The thought has obviously occurred to more than just me. Robin speaks up, "We're going to stick together. Leaving is not a good idea. It will probably be the first thing Slade will expect us to do. He might even be bluffing. What really matters is what he considers morning, so we have until 12 midnight or dawn depending on his definition. I don't know if Slade was referring to me as to who would be missing in the morning but we should all be on the alert." His voice lowers to an apologetic murmur, "Catty, I'm sorry you have to be involved in this."  
  
My eyes have grown wide and my palms have begun to shake in anticipation of the impending attack, but I put on a brave face and speak with more confidence than I feel, "Don't worry, I had some doubts about making it to cover story, but this will stop the presses." Beastboy chuckles. I check my watch again when Robin turns away. 11:27.  
  
Time marches slowly on as I sit on the edge of the couch. Starfire seats herself close to me, smiling engagingly, but I can sense her nervous undertone. I smile crookedly back, marveling at the circumstances that brought the two of us together. Raven and Cyborg sit at the other end of the couch while Robin and Beastboy pace.  
  
I would have never expected this in the morning. At 6:30 my most pressing problem was the toilet in the community bathroom was clogged again and I was out of Crest Whitener. Now, I'm waiting for the Big Bad Wolf of all super villains to come knocking on the door- and most likely blowing it down. I wonder if the Titans would blast through the walls and let me go home to my fourteenth floor apartment room and the clogged toilet, but I dismiss the thought immediately. This lowly reporter has a knack for adventure and my instincts are telling me this is prime time, kick-butt action unfolding before me. The real deal once in a lifetime opportunity, even though the lifetime is in danger of being cut drastically short.  
  
You can't really blame me though. At that moment I wasn't exactly thinking straight, being under the most stress I had probably ever dealt with.  
  
At 11:46 the silence is still unbroken and the tension in the room is almost tangible. Beastboy starts to sing softly, "It's a small world after all, It's a small world-"  
  
"Shut up!" Everyone orders, including me. We all look sheepish afterward- except Raven- but I have a suspicion that Beastboy only wanted the reassurance of other voices. The boisterous little boy doesn't seem to be able to handle silence for very long.  
  
And then everything happened very fast. The glass of the window shatters, sending all of the Titans cartwheeling, leaping, and flying away, leaving me sitting on the couch. Green and Black fire lace around the first black garbed robot that leaps through the window, adequately tearing it to pieces. I jump over the back of the couch and cover my head in a defensive position as Robin reaches for his retractable bo-staff.  
  
Cyborg's ion cannon built into his arm takes out a further two robots leaving five unharmed and more still crawling through the window. Without warning, a huge green lion is in their midst, ripping and tearing at any appendages within its formidable reach. Admittedly, I was doing something at that moment some would call cowering, I called it self-preservation. But I had nothing to offer and so I sat behind the couch, waiting for my fate to play out and leaving it in the hands of teenage superheroes.  
  
Starfire and Raven separate, each attacking smaller groups of robots. Starfire blasts away, her eyes glowing a venomous green. A robot catches her foot, and she kicks him off, but this unfortunately lowers her altitude enough so other robots can pile onto her. With a scream she goes under the pile of writhing bodies. Robin throws himself at the robots surrounding her, fighting like a wounded animal. A green light engulfs the rest of the bodies, sending them spinning across the room. Robin says something to Starfire, and I strain to hear, but the battle noise is too loud. Cyborg continues to fire his ion cannon and Beastboy is now an elephant, trumpeting his victory.  
  
Suddenly, a robot confronts me, moving at an alarming pace. Robin sees my dilemma and, tearing away from Starfire, plants himself squarely between the robot and me. For a moment I can only gape at the boy, spinning and kicking and lashing out with his staff, but I gather my senses and have the brains to consider a more secure hiding spot. Just as this thought crosses my mind, the robot lunges at Robin and plants an open palm on his side. Even I can see the move is stupid and it costs the robot his head, deftly knocked off by Robin's staff. Robin grins at me for a split second and then I'm flying.  
  
A jetpack equipped robot has caught me under the armpits and I'm now speeding toward the window. Robin makes a running leap for me and catches my ankle. I'm screaming my head off if you haven't guessed already. To my utmost despair Robin's hand slips and he tumbles back into the tower as I'm suddenly dangling over a drop too gruesome to describe. My shrieks escalate to a pitch that could have shamed a Banshee. The idea occurs to me that this may not be the best way to stay alive when a hard and immediately affective fist slams into the nerve bundle at the nape of my neck.

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My faithful reviewers thank you for sticking with me- special thanks to Spazzfire who's reviewed every chapter! 


	6. The Device

A Cat's Tale  
  
By: Catty Engles Reporter for the Daily Gazette  
  
Edition Sixth: The Device  
  
I wake to the equivalent of the Macy's Thanksgiving's Day Parade marching through my head. I groan and roll over onto my back. _Alive_? Check. _Breathing_? Check. _Broken_? I tenderly finger a bloody knot of hair at the base of my skull and the Marching Bands squall extra loud. _Broken_? I ask myself again. Minorly. The next endeavor, opening my eyes. I peek cautiously out, but the dim glow of computer monitors proves too much for my eyes. It's so cold, close to freezing I'm sure.  
  
I decide to lie on the frosty metal floor and collect my wits for a second when I feel the vibrations of footsteps and hear the dulled clacking of boots. Some instinct tells me to feign sleep. I immediately slow my breathing drastically and relax all my muscles, trying not to shiver.  
  
"This is the girl?" It's a slow and monotone voice that had been crackly with static the last time I heard it, Slade.  
  
"Yes, that's the Cat." I almost forget that I'm supposed to be asleep- That's Slick Boulderdash! Head of the Daily Gazette! His heavy breathing and oily way of talking are unmistakable to me now. "Pity, she had potential." Why that two-faced son-of-a-  
  
"She has the device?" Slade interjects on my thoughts. Device? What?  
  
"Yes, I gave it to her and explicitly told her to catch every conversation that went on inside the building. But really, why do you want-" Slick is cut short as his air pipe is cut off, or so I'm assuming from the wet gags he utters.  
  
"Don't question me. You will get your money and be happy with it. If any funny questions are asked, I'll know who to kill."  
  
Slick wheezes as the pressure on his air pipe is released, "Yes, boss, no questions."  
  
"I am done with you." Slade dismisses him like the piece of dirt he is.  
  
I concentrate fully on keeping my breathing steady and slow to take my mind off of Slick's betrayal. I'm entirely convinced that this Slade character is BAD news, and Slick sold me out to him! And then gloved fingers are probing me. I have to muster all my will-power not to tense up or throw of his hands. They start on my belly, gently patting me down, moving steadily upwards until they reach my neck. Slade opens my vest and finds what he has been looking for on the underside of my collar- the mini-recorder.  
  
I had almost forgotten about it. Slade takes it carefully in his fingers and pulls it away from my collar. He must be fiddling with it above me for I haven't heard any footsteps move away from me. Suddenly an ear-splitting squeal issues from the thing. I can't help myself, I sit bolt upright- suddenly confronted by Slade's knee only inches from my face.  
  
He doesn't seem to notice, but I know he did, "Hmm, too close to the human spectrum to be effective, but it does work." He turns his back to me and walks towards a huge monitor displaying a room with shattered glass littered across the sitting nook, couch, TV, Game station – I gasp. It's the room I had been in with the Titans just moments ago. Or was it hours. I check my watch. 1:12 AM. So, yes, about one hour ago.  
  
Slade's voice interrupts my thinking, "I wanted to thank you." He says.  
  
I give him my most disgusted look that is lost on his back, "For what?"  
  
The piercing squeal rockets around the room a second time. I cover my ears and grit my teeth, but the metal monster doesn't seem to even flinch. "That." He says.  
  
"What, I don't understand?" Act the blonde. Act the blonde. Act the blonde. He might buy it, you never know.  
  
He turns and gives me a calculating look before seeming to come to an internal decision. "When you tried to interview the Titans in their home, this mini-recorder emitted a supersonic sound wave that jammed every electronical item in the T-Tower, including Cyborg. But before it jammed everything it took the digital fingerprint to each device. Now, I have no use for their microwave's fingerprint, but I can hack the other tip-of-the- knife technology the Titans have at their fingertips and turn their entire residence against them. Ingenious, eh?" He tucks the mini-recorder into his belt-pouch, looking very satisfied with himself.  
  
He at least looks genuine. Maybe he's telling the truth. Would it even work? I don't know. The plan seems smart, and come to think of it, didn't Cyborg blow a gasket right after I turned the mini-recorder on? Then it hits me.  
  
_I might have single-handedly brought down the Teen Titans_. And they will never know why. None of them even know or probably even have guessed the origin of the disturbance. I didn't, and the device was placed on my person, with my knowing. They will be forced out of their own home. Without their tower, their domicile, their base, Slade or any other villain with enough ambition can pick them off easy. I've killed the Titans, or at least made them simple prey.  
  
Slade watches the change of emotions plain on my face with growing delight. When I've reached my most horrified and enraged expression, he snaps his fingers and two robot guards take both of my elbows. Crazy thoughts begin to chase themselves around my head. I could jump Slade, I could take him. No- I couldn't, I'm 90 pounds and with the muscle tone of a four-year-old. I can see his biceps bulging even under all that uniform.  
  
Whoosh. Bang. And I'm surrounded by the metal bars of a cage.

* * *

Loyal reviewers, I thank thou profusely. Without thee, thy story would be naught but dust 'twixt thy keyboard. 


	7. Spinkick

A Cat's Tale  
  
By: Catty Engles Reporter for the Daily Gazette  
  
Edition Seventh: Spin-kick  
  
Whoosh. Bang. And I'm surrounded by the metal bars of a cage.  
  
Slade seems to forget me for a moment as he bends over the control panel, obviously engrossed in his work. That's fine with me if I what is biting into my ankle is what I think it is. I angle my body so that my searching hand is not obvious to Slade or any hidden cameras that might be above me. I'm helpless to those at a certain angle or range, but what's life without the life-threatening, utterly stupid risks we take, eh?  
  
I dig into my sock and a quick glance into my palm confirms that Robin was able to plant a tracker on my ankle when he tried to save me from the flying robot. This is good, it ensures the intent of rescue.  
  
Now to sit back and wait ... and think.  
  
My thoughts first turn to the weasely Slick Boulderdash who probably sold me and the mini-recorder out for a couple grand, no, I shouldn't flatter myself- but knowing Slick ... I'd say Slade had to pay a pretty price for the perverted penny-pincher. The heavy weight of guilt takes up a permanent residence in motel Catty.  
  
Then they drift to Slade's scheme and my unwilling but still completely helpful part in all this. How do I know the Titans won't think that I was working for Slade? I reach behind my head and wince accordingly. Oh yeah.  
  
But will I be able to do anything to prove myself worthy of rescue? All noble thoughts aside, I would like to get out of here alive. My wandering eyes fix on something and I smile grimly to myself, a plan already formulating in my mind. Hmm, there is one thing.  
  
I contemplate for a quarter of an hour, working out the glitches and praying. You could say I'm a fair-weather- er, bad-weather Christian, but I wouldn't scorn some divine intervention at this point.  
  
Time drags on for me and my tension mounts inside.  
  
Combat noise is heard in the hallway. Slade looks up from his task at the computer and gives me a venomous glare. Seems he just realized his big mistake of not searching me and against my better senses I grin my big reporter grin, showing lots of teeth and defiance. His hand goes to his side for his com like a knight would for a sword. A few quick words into it and suddenly the room is swarming with robots.  
  
And with one last prayer sent up to the heavens, I adjust my skirt and hair and wait for the impending chaos.  
  
The door flies a full twenty feet away from its hinges revealing the Teen Titans in all their battle splendor. Robin goes directly for Slade and the others begin the messy work of kicking serious robot butt. I wave my arms, desperately trying to call attention to myself, "Starfire!"  
  
The alien girl, hovering high above the teeming ranks of robots looks up, her eyes burning. A short moment of indecision passes over her and then she nods as if assuring herself. Green light spurts from her fingertips, adequately slicing through the metal cage's top, just high enough so it doesn't endanger my head. Thumbs up for thanks and I catapult over the top, reaching for my weapon.  
  
I draw with all the relish of a warrior ready to do battle. To my utmost, and I can stress how utmost, relief pepper spray works just as well on robots as it does to their human counterparts. I'm not exactly sure why, but philosophy wasn't high on my priority list at the moment. I spray my way over to the computer screen, catching a fleeting glimpse of the Slade/Robin battle going on to my left. This'll have to be quick.  
  
I duck to a small segment that I noticed earlier on the belly of the huge control panel. With slight pressure of my palm it opens to a tangle of wires. I smile to myself and begin my work.  
  
Yes, as Hercules is of the same genetic make-up as Hitler, so it the average copy machine similar to this monstrosity of master-computer. And as all of the careful readers know, I can make my way around the copy machine several times over with my eyes closed and one hand tied behind my back, _and_ I'm just good with technology. I search the bundles of cords, finally coming up with the red wire and blue wire.  
  
Ah yes, the eternal question, which to cut? The red, if any of you action freaks have guessed. The memory of the master computer is now wiped dryer than the Sahara and my secret mission is accomplished. Now to destroy the original copy.  
  
I wipe myself down, trying to look inconspicuous as I plot my next move- hard to do with all the battle noise.  
  
Cyborg and Starfire are working as a team. Back to back, they rocket off energy blasts, clearing a wide radius of destruction. Raven and Beastboy are backed into a corner, Raven keeping her shield up while Beastboy lashes out from behind it. Raven's weakening and I can tell that Starfire and Cyborg are trying to blast their way over to their friends' aide.  
  
The henchman robots are busy enough, but- oh no, where's Robin? Slade and Boy Wonder have made an exit as I quickly figure out from the back door swinging on its hinges.  
  
I make a bee-line for it, brandishing my pepper spray at any errant robot. I push aside the door and find myself in a stairwell that seems not to have had the convenience of a temperature over 50 degrees in the last millennia. My teeth start chattering as I make my way up the metal staircase, noting the faint depressions in the thick swathe of dust that covers each step. They've been here.  
  
As I push myself up two stories straight, I also wonder if this truly is Slade's secret lair/lab/hide-out- thing. I mean this dust is not new, and even slight activity would keep off a layer this thick.  
  
My breath forms ice-crystals in front of my face and I crouch behind another ajar door leading to the roof. My brain seems to be running remarkably slow and I fight for control. Clearing a little bit of the fog out of my mind, I focus on the grunts of battle and skidding feet I hear outside.  
  
Reminding myself of my goal, I slink around the door, thankful that Slade has his back to me, but not for long. The roof is whipped by a frigid wind that swirls a dusting of snow into eerie shapes. Crates line one side of the wall and a generator fan dominates the other. Robin and Slade are at the base of the fan creatively utilizing some of the scaffolding.  
  
Gritting my teeth, I run in a crouched position over to a pile of crates and watch the fight, biting my lip and biding my time.  
  
Robin lashes out ferociously but his hits are lightning quick and come in quick succession. Slade fights more along the haymaker approach sending devastating punches at Robin when he darts too close. Robin rolls away and comes up behind Slade, but the man is too quick for the boy and lands a punishing blow to his chest. Robin spirals away with a heart-wrenching groan. I throw all caution to the winds and against all my better senses, learning, and instincts begin to sprint towards the man.  
  
Slade saunters over to Robin and stands above him as he lies winded on the ground. My speed increases as Slade raises a foot to deal the final punishing blow. The next few seconds seem to fast-forward themselves each time I try to remember them. I wind my hand around Slade's belt-pouch, not really thinking how I will get it off or get the mini-recorder out of it when Robin catapults backwards and Slade's foot connects squarely with my chest instead of his, tearing his belt off in my hand. This solves one problem but creates another far more dire.  
  
Then everything slows down as I hear an internal crack. I skid a few feet, gradually coming to a stop as Robin's cry of outrage echoes gruesomely and he redoubles his efforts, "Catty!"  
  
My breath is beyond labored. Each intake plunges knives into my breast and every exhale twists them in the wound. My eyes widen as shapes and colors blur into themselves then begin to darken. "I must be dying" reverberates through my head. For a moment I want to welcome the merciful darkness, but then I remember my goal.  
  
I open the belt-pouch, my breath like a maelstrom in my own ears, and remove the tiny device that has caused so much grief and with a final effort separate the actual recorder to what I now know is a supersonic sound wave generator and digital fingerprint documenter. With my last reserves of strength, I crush it in my hand. With Slade's satisfying howl of rage still ringing in my ears, I surrender myself to unconsciousness.

* * *

So yes, this chapter is a bit longer than the others but I couldn't find a good place to cut it off and I just love my reviewers so MUCH! Mwuah! It's obvious I've hooked the intelligent lot and/or the people who enjoy a story and not some romantic mush. So yes, thank you to all that have reviewed, and now I'll put the question to you. There's about enough information for one more chapter and then ... I've been throwing around the idea of continuing the story. But if I do I must sate the appetite of the helpless romantic within. So I really don't care but- who is paired with who? Personally I don't mind RobStar BBRae RaeRob or BBStar I will NOT write slash, I don't think anyone is made for Cyborg on the team- but YOU tell ME what YOU think then my people can get with your people and, lo, a story is to behold! 


	8. An Offer I Can Resist

A Cat's Tale

By: Catty Engles Reporter for the Daily Gazette

Edition Eighth: An Offer I Can Resist

I open my eyes to a sterile white surrounding. I blink to clear my vision and realize I'm in a cot, also blindingly white. I groan as I turn my head to see an IV growing out of my wrist and quickly turn the other way, fighting nausea.

"Oh, you're awake." A fat, homely nurse with red splotches on both cheeks smiles at me. "Are you up for visitors, love? They've been waiting quite long."

I nod blearily not really thinking about the question, but suddenly realizing that I'm in a hospital.

The nurse bobs a curtsy and skips out of the room. My head clears a little and I begin to remember events and times and places. For about five minutes I collect myself slowly in the cot with the curtains drawn.

I also search my nightstand and surrounding area for the recorder that I had left undamaged when I crushed the other device Slade had planted on me. I had originally thought to use the recording to condemn Slick and so I was alarmed not to find it anywhere.

Then I must say I received one of the great shocks of my life.

"Here they are." The fat nurse pokes her head through the curtains and smiles wide so that her eyes disappear in folds of flesh.

She pulls aside the curtains and who should be standing there other than the Teen Titans. Starfire immediately kneels beside my bed and starts to stroke my un-punctured-by-a-huge-needle wrist, crooning under her breath.

"Oh, we should have gotten you here sooner. You look so damaged."

"It's okay Star," Beastboy pipes up from behind Cyborg, "We set a new record- fastest hospital arrival time by means of two flying girls and a pterodactyl." He smiles winningly and what can I do other than smile back at him.

Cyborg leans against my nightstand, making it groan with the effort, "But what else could we do? Superheroes don't normally call 911. We are the response team." A glimmer of concern passes over him, "But how're you feelin'?"

"Fine, for someone who's ..." I stop, bemusedly puzzled. I frankly have no idea what is wrong with me but I hurt all over.

"Fractured your collarbone, bruised two ribs, cracked one and are in danger of puncturing a lung. Not to mention the nasty bump on the back of your head." Robin supplies.

"Ah." I smile, dazed for a moment and finger the linen bandage draped over my forehead. "How do you guys handle it, I mean one good kick and I'm conked off like a three-day hangover."

Beastboy pinches my arm where my non-existent biceps should be. "That's why."

I nod, still smiling and still a bit dazed. I try to remember if the Teen Titans do hospital happy-hour on a regular basis. The silence stretches and I lean my head against the pillows, suddenly noticing that the Titans are nervous. I almost laugh.

Raven nudges Robin and he seems to come to an internal decision. "Catty, we've decided, even though you're obvious lack of powers won't make you a charter member," He fumbles with something inside his cape, finally producing the Teen Titans Communicator. Do I dare believe?

"to offer you a position on the team. As technical genius." My mouth plummets to the floor.

"It's okay to say no." Raven deadpans. Beastboy shoves her but Raven doesn't acknowledge him or break eye-contact with me.

I recover my composure and reattach my lower jaw to my upper, "Okay then, no."

"What?!" Cyborg, Robin, Starfire, and Beastboy exclaim in outrage.

"But you saved my life, in that surgery and all our lives when Slade got the digital fingerprints." Cyborg protests, his mouth about as wide as mine had been.

"I said no. Unless, you're getting your butts whooped and I'm really needed I won't deny the world their safety, but I'm not any kind of superhero. As to those situations, all I did was put in a password that you mouthed to me. And- but how did you know about the mini-recorder?"

"Cyborg is also well versed in the technology industry." Starfire pipes up looking like a proud mother hen.

"See, you already have your genius." I smirked, the reporter in me already formulating a plan as to the point of milking this situation till it's dry. Then something occurs to me, "But wait, you know exactly what happened?" That I was tricked into smuggling the device inside, and was going to record everything without their knowing.

Robin exchanges looks with Cyborg and picks up the conversation where he left off, "A few background checks and we could guess most of it. Also noting that Slick Boulderdash is in county jail and is now pending for trial. He confessed everything under pain of having play-time with the Titans who he was planning on ruining." Robin smiles grimly.

I return his grin, dropping the bomb squarely on his shoulders, "So you trust me?"

He doesn't flinch but I can see torment brewing in his stance, "Yes."

"Yes." Starfire.

"Yes." Beastboy.

"Yes." Cyborg.

Pause.

"Somewhat." Raven.

"That's good enough." I snatch the com from Robin, and to protests from my ribcage, I lean forward, putting on my most winning grin, "Have you ever considered taking an agent?"

From the varying degree of shock registering on each of the Titans' faces I know my statement has come with just the amount of surprise I wanted it to. Except for Robin, his eyebrow is cocked and his arms folded, shaking his head slowly at my audacity. I smirk at him. We speak the same language.

* * *

Okay, so this is where the story originally ends... but (YES! There is a but!) for my sake, because Catty is so awesome and fun to write with, the story most likely will continue. Reviews are always appreciated, and I've decided on StarRob as one and only pairing- I think. Ugh, new stories are so hard to predict, but it most likely will have a crime syndicate, another transfer of Raven's powers, and GASP where did the actual recorder go?


	9. Alls well that Ends Better

AHHH! Continuity has just gone out the window. Please just go with the flow, accept what is given and run with it, cus I'm probably three steps ahead of you. Okay so, I know it's been a while, and this might go slower than the first part. It may be a little Catty heavy, and if that gets boring, scream at me. I will change- you reviewers must know that I am a very flexible author and know when to back down and take good suggestions. So if -heaven forbid- Catty gets boring, kick, bite, throw a fit! Just tell me, I don't take much personally. Thank you and enjoy!

* * *

A Cat's Tale 

By: Catty Engles Reporter for the Daily Gazette

Edition Eighth: All's Well that Ends Better

I took extreme pleasure clearing out my cubicle, lingering over nothing and finishing the job surprisingly fast. Later that week, I was clearing out my apartment. When I became the Titan's agent I brandished their copyrights with the force of one possessed. Business had never gone smoother for me. Corporations bent under my will to obtain the rights to sell Teen Titan merchandise. And I sat on top of the plunder like the big cheese I knew I was destined to be. Of course the Titan's got their fair share of the royalties, more than their fair share if I had anything to do with it. The Titans thought I had saved their life, but, I know for a fact, they saved mine.

Within a matter of months I took up residence in a highrise suit. The percentage from the action figures alone that Mattel gladly started to manufacture after I suggested production, would have left me suited for the rest of my life, but... Halloween costumes, legos, Beastboy Tofu and other homely food products, coloring books, keychains, jewelry, CDs, imitation communicators, some fancy new clothing lines, and comic books (wonder why no one thought of that before) would ensure that the rest of my life would be _extremely_ comfortable. I could spare this suit splurge.

It's been two months, two short months and I'm a different Catty. I've let my rigid bob grow from my cheekbones to my jaw. My waifish, stick-like frame has filled out generously a result of either the steady stream of food or the reduction of stress, I don't know or care, but, to my pleasure, I have a curvy figure and something (_somethings_) to fill the front of my shirt. I feel more complete in these past few weeks than I think in my whole life.

I recline in my office chair, reveling in the utter bliss of getting what I want. Slick is in jail. Slade is old news, and I am the boss now. Life was- is good.

My generously spacious office affords only the most luxurious. Everything is leather or heartwood, giving the layout a pleasant aristocratic air. There is a conglomeration of novels and volumes on the bookshelf, overflowing onto my desk. Contracts and waivers are scattered across it, a spattering of elaborate paperweights, expensive pens, and prototype action figures litter the already congested surface.

The west side of the office is entirely glass. Not one of my brighter ideas, seeing as I fight down nausea every time I witness the insectile crawling of cars forty stories below me. I am not fond of heights. The last time this fear had ever manifested itself into a plausible threat found me dangling from a jet-packed henchman's grasp outside of the T-tower. I shudder at the memory and turn away from the window.

I punch a button on my desk, "Tina, are they here yet?"

A loud and dramatic sigh comes in a rush of static over the intercom's less than crystal reception, "Miss Engles the Titans are not present and will not be present until the appointed time: 4:00 PM as you may graciously observe it is still only 3:45 PM. Please, stop hectoring me."

I keep my finger on the button, "Hectoring, Tina?"

My office door opens and a slim blonde girl leans in the doorway, "Yes, hectoring, Miss Engles, etymology pays you know."

"And so does crime, but we don't all indulge in the illegitimate."

"You know what I meant."

My vampiress smile spreads across my face. Yes, Tina is in college, but she is just my match for intellectual word-games.

She flips her golden locks behind her perfectly conspicuous shoulder. Tina has a slight tendency to embonpoint. Her white square-cut tank is a good four inches lacking in material between her bellybutton (which is pierced by a diamond stud) and low-rise jeans. Her hips seem to have an eternal cock, accentuating her voluptuous figure, not to mention perfect tan. Hardly secretary material for a normal big-shot, but who said I was normal?

"I know you've been watching the clock as well."

She sighs dramatically, again. "Guilty as charged. Robin has finally committed a devastatingly devious crime." I cock an eyebrow, hardly smiling, "He's stolen my heart and made off with it like the shameless vigilante he is." She grins, clamping a hand across her chest. A little over the top, but Tina does nothing halfway.

"Ah, what green tights do for that boy. He has fangirls coming out of his... ears. Poor guy, I'm glad I'm not in his metal plated shoes." I shuffle some papers on my desk, trying to find at least a semblance of organization.

"It's not like you aren't interested." She scowls at me, her face suddenly turning dark, "I have feminine intuition, and I know how to use it. You're moving in on my turf."

"Robin and my relationship is purely business."

"Bull." With that, she turns, hips jiggling flagrantly, and slams my door. I wince, not from the noise but from the accusation. Lately, I've prodded myself for feelings of the romantic sort for the be-masked hero. My endless charade of boyfriends has recently been even less than satisfying. Empty words and hollow actions have done little to fill the void slowly growing in prominence inside me. As a rule of moral I have never run the bases, and am currently unattached. Robin has been dominant in my mind for the past few weeks.

I pause for a moment, looking down at the congested streets below, and let my thoughts wander.

I've been in close contact with each of the Titans ever since I started to handle all of their business propositions and I've enjoyed it immensely, not just on professional basis.

Beastboy is hilarious, even though his humor makes me want to groan. His adamant persistence of trying to make everyone laugh alone is funny. His carefree attitude but sensitive countenance keeps my short fuse in check. And more and more I begin to realize that these teens are not regular teens they are old heads on young shoulders... but he is the exception to the rule.

One of my most intimate relations is with Cyborg. He's become the big brother I never had, always teasing me gently and inquiring about my latest boyfriend's degrading qualities. He's not as quick-witted as I am, but his honest and straightforward approach to everything is a welcome relief from Jump City's tangled web of hidden motives inside and out of the office.

Starfire dubbed me as one of her new best friends after our little escapade with Slade (after clarifying that Cattys and Kittens do not conduct themselves the same, though I'm still not entirely sure why). I'm not very patient when it comes to most things, but Starfire's sincere inquiries of earth culture never cease to make me smile. She enjoys having someone to delight in the female pleasures of existence with, seeing as Raven does not "do" the mall, manicures, small chat, fashion, boy watching, or anything else fun. I am her mentor in all things womanly. We've hit the mall, chilled at the food court, flirted, well I've flirted, Starfire kind of just smiles. If Cyborg is my big brother, Starfire would most likely be my little sister.

Raven will never quite accept me. Every time we meet there is a coldness in her that I can't seem to melt. She's never trusted me, and this is one thing that burdens this bright new life of mine. She is so devastatingly secretive that I fear I will never come to know her like the others. Like they say, trying is the first step to failure.

And then there's Robin. The intense and bright boy- _man_ he is. My dreams last night replayed over and over the attack on Titan Tower. Me cowering behind the couch ... Robin facing the henchman robot, sending a flurry of kicks and punches at him rapid-fire ... the robot hitting Robin with an open palm which gives Boy Wonder an opening to deal the fatal blow ... His debonair grin at the moment of victory. My feelings for Robin? I'm still trying to sort those out.

"They're here." Crackles Tina over the intercom. I straighten up immediately and press the return button.

"Send them in please." I imagine Tina rolling her eyes, like she didn't do that the minute they walked into the building.

I meet them at the door.

I usher the Titans into my office. Beastboy is the first through, trying to see everything at once. "You got this set up in a month?" He asks a little amazed as he riffles through my extensive bookshelf.

I beam as Starfire flies through the doorway and settles herself primly on a leather armchair near the full-wall window overlooking the city. "It is most amazing!" Her eyes glisten and she pulls her knees up to her chin, watching the rest of her friends file in, Robin last. When he steps past the threshold a tiny beeping sound emanates from my desk.

I shoot Robin a puzzled look and push some papers aside, searching for the source. "Robin, you don't happen to be carrying any high-density synthetic metalloidal componenets, would you?" I ask, already knowing the answer.

He cocks an eyebrow and produces a birdarang and many reactor bombs set to explode on impact from his utility belt. "Of course."

"Hmm." I approach him after finding the alarm's control panel and switching it off.

Cyborg is examining the doorframe, "Catty, this isn't-"

"A metal detector?" I finish, not looking up. I take Robin's birdarang in my hand, examining it more closely, "Yes, it is."

"But, it can't be fully operational, metal detectors are huge, and if my scans are right this is no thicker than one inch."

"Oh it's fully operational," I smile, still examining Robin's birdarang, "Airport metal detectors are meant to be conspicuous. It's a foolproof method of getting the point across that everything is being watched. There are many useless cortexes that can be removed to make it much smaller."

"But still it couldn't be less than an inch!" Cyborg looks confused and Starfire and Beastboy are grinning at his plight.

"Yes it can," I hand Robin's birdarang back to him, "If its sensors are replaced by ion beams."

Cyborg looks impressed, and enters something into the computer on his arm. I turn to Robin, my inspection of the weapon complete.

"This birdarang, wasn't what the sensors picked up, how can it-" I begin.

"It's made of an alloy of-" Robin begins to explain, but my intellect kicks in and I cut him off.

"Oh, but how did you overcome the-"

"I didn't."

"So this is-"

"Yes."

"That's amazing!"

"I know."

I step back, smiling at Robin. From what I've just learned I have a far deeper respect for his understanding of synthesis, but the other Titans, including Cyborg seem a bit confused. I wave my hand dismissively, "It's nothing, just some literati rambling." Robin catches the joke and flashes a smile before taking a seat next to Starfire.

I pick up a manila folder fit to burst and set it on the table. Beastboy groans, and all the rest of the Titans' eyes seem to glaze over like a room-full of students preparing to sit through a philosophical lecture of the anatomy of a dung beetle. I had opened the folder, but I close it and check my watch. Everyone is staring at me, their minds obviously somewhere else.

My hand goes to my chin. I'm obviously not going to get anything useful done here. I swish my way over to the desk and press the intercom button, "Tina?"

"Yes, Miss Engles."

"Are those complimentary tickets still on file?"

Shuffling papers. "Yes, Miss Engles, six of them."

"Thanks, set them out, please?"

"Of course."

I turn to face the Titans. "I think a little American Pastime is in order here. Who's up for peanuts and cracker jacks?" The boys leap up, Beastboy and Cyborg slapping high fives. "This meeting is adjourned. Let's go to a baseball game."

* * *

Thank you to Grumbumble, you make me smile, I love your reviews, and your story, if you've read this, why are you here? Go work on your own story! I am addicted!!!

Thanks for reading, drop me a line, tell me what you'd like to see, be my guest to tell me a joke, that would make me smile... hehe j/k.


	10. Three Strikes

Yes, this is our exposition chapter, now that you've been caught up to speed. Hopefully, it's still entertaining and I can entice you back by dangling hopes of intrigue in later chapters in front of your faces.

A Cat's Tale

By: Catty Engles Reporter for the Daily Gazette

Edition Tenth: Three Strikes

I hustle the Titans out the maintenance entrance after making a detour to Tina's desk and grabbing the tickets. We find Charlie already standing by the limo door. I snatch the slowly smoking cigarette out of his mouth and crush it beneath my heel. "You know I don't like those."

"Aw, but Miz Cat," His bald plate shimmers in the evening sun as he jokes with me snidely. "They're filter. Ain't doing me any 'arm."

"Tar is tar, it belongs on asphalt not in your lungs." I really wish Charlie would kick the habit. He doesn't drink on a matter of principal, but my limo driver is not as young as he used to be and I don't want to lose a friend in this twisted world.

"File in there." Charlie doesn't, to his credit, seem overly surprised by my company. I mentally thank him.

I just need one final shot at getting him to quit, "Charlie, think about the little woman!"

"She smokes three packs a day and is still going strong but you've nagged me down to one. Holy palooza Miz Cat you'll give yourself an ulcer before you can drive." He snickers and stows himself in the driver's seat, revving the engine unnecessarily.

I find myself nuzzled between Cyborg and Beastboy. Starfire is already interrogating Robin about "the baseball." On the way up I carefully broach the subject of poster sales, T-shirt inventories, and a new clothing line featuring Raven. She seems to be the only one to pick up on my subliminal business, which is actually being filed away in my brain for later revenue.

"A new clothing line? Don't I already have one?"

"Raven, you have one T-shirt, that's nickel and dime stuff. You've got this whole Gothic following who would jump at a chance to wear your face on anything." I'm wheedling I know, but the one T-shirt sold out in record time.

Raven slouches and crosses her arms, "Goths are just an easy way for ugly people to look more interesting."

I wait for my brain to supply an answer, but it realizes it's a joke. That startles a chuckle out of me. I wasn't expecting jokes, especially from her. Most of the trip is filled by happy banter, and Beastboy's rapturous cries as he descends upon the mini-fridge.

"Pick us up around nine, Charlie?" I ask as the Titans walk towards the ticket counter.

"Of course, Miz Cat, y'old Tiger." I slap the limo affectionately as Charlie pulls away. Tiger, It's my street name. The newspapers gobbled it up that I went by Cat. I don't know if I can take anymore puns.

"Oh ... boy." I exhale sharply. The Titans have been swamped. Cyborg is being bombarded with little kids wearing caps and baseball gloves. Starfire is being pressed hard by squealing girls for an autograph. Seems some of the boys are pretty keen to get one as well. Beastboy and Raven are back to back as Beastboy laughs and jokes, working the crowd and Raven rolls her eyes, point-blank refusing to sign anything. But of all of them, Robin has been positively mobbed.

In a swirl of pink, he goes under. The girls close in tight, giggling, crying, and screaming. This isn't the normal enemy that one can punch and kick, but one that would like no more than to kiss him to death. I smirk. I'm going to a baseball game with five superheroes and it's Catty to the rescue.

"ALRIGHT!" I wave my arms wildly. The fangirls' screams taper off into bewildered gurgles. Silence for a nanosecond. That's all I need. "Press conference! I can't believe you've forgotten again!" I roll my eyes dramatically for effect. "Okay, move along. We're already late." A lie, but an effective one as it turns out.

Grumbles and last ditch efforts for an autograph commence immediately. Somehow I get the Titans through the maintenance entrance and up to our suite.

The little room overlooks the field from above all the rest of the seats. Beastboy dives for the mini-bar ("Score!") as the rest of us wander throughout, admiring the view. Starfire drops down on a green leather couch next to the wall and Cyborg tinkers with the TV. Raven snatches a magazine off of the coffee table and commences to read about life threatening brain tumors. Robin finds the sliding door's clasp and steps out onto the balcony overlooking the field.

I follow him out, the strange heavy feeling in my stomach when the two of us are alone already forming. Absently, he watches the pitchers from both teams warming up.

"So-" I start, not really wanting to break the silence but too nervous not to.

"Do you have any idea how to explain to Starfire the concept of innings?" He asks.

"No, but good luck with that one." I lean on the guardrail, cocking my head to the side.

He turns his back to the field, draping both of his arms over the edge. I can see his chest rising and falling and hear the soft whisper of his breath. God, he's gorgeous. A comfortable silence passes between us and the pleasant rumble of the crowd fills in the awkward gaps. I've always thought a true friend is one that silence can pass unquestioned with.

He smiles at me, "Catty, do you-"

"Catty Engles?" I look up at my full name. A man is standing on the balcony of the suite left of ours. His sandy blond hair falls into his shocking blue eyes. He smiles, and there is a sharp contrast between his perfectly white teeth and sun-bronzed face. I've met him before. He, like me, has made lots of money very quickly, and in the same business. Strange, I never thought of that. I'm currently in negotiation with him over new titanic (pun completely intended) ventures. His name is Ashley Chamberlain. A girly name, I know, but that is the extent of the feminine in him. He positively reeks masculinity. "Catty, you must have a drink with me, as business partners. Your client may come as well."

Robin's relaxed attitude is gone. His muscles are tense and he's regarding Ashley with jealousy. No, I won't flatter myself. It's a mixture of caution and calculation. Not an attitude that screams tea-time.

"Uh, Robin, this is Ashley. I'm sorry Mr. Chamberlain, I don't believe my _friend _will be joining us, but I will be happy to." Keep the deal on the line and then get away as quickly as possible.

Robin remains stoic and impassive as I step past him. I give the tiniest of nods as he turns to leave, hoping I left him assured. I'm a big tough babe anyway. Grrl power and all that.

I step between the barrier separating us and have to squeeze past Ashley in the tight confines. In close quarters, I notice he even smells manly. Tiny prickles run up and down my spine. My breath quickens though my chest tightens. Sweat slicks my palms and I feel my _body_ reacting to Ashley though my _mind_ is still firmly on Robin. Ashley gently leads me into his suite with his big and sensual hand behind my elbow.

He can't be human. No one can look this good. They'd explode, or something.

Bodyguards lounge against the wall. They seem to be straight out of a gang, big, muscular, and tattooed. Both of them are wearing dark sunglasses and a ring to each sausage roll finger. Ashley gives them a meaningful look. "We'll wait outside." Growls one of the guards. He flicks his head in the direction of the door and the other man follows, grumbling.

"Ah, so-" Ashley sits me down on the identical leather green couch to the one in my suite and finds a glass, "Beer?"

"I'm only fifteen."

"Ah, well, wine then." Not to quick on the uptake, is he? And who brings wine to a baseball game?

"Water, please." He nods and gets up to fetch it. I watch him as he goes. He is most definitely a man. He has the build and mesmerizing voice of one. I find myself comparing Robin to Ashley, the boy to the man, and realize I prefer the former. I inescapably prefer the former.

"So Miss Engles-"

"Catty, please."

"Catty." He smiles and licks his lips like he has just eaten a tantalizing sweet. "Funny how we both came to the same place at the same time."

"Just a coincidence I suppose."

"A coincidence, maybe." He pauses, "Have you read Joseph Campbell?"

"What a fraud."

His laugh is an explosion of merriment and he pats my knee approvingly. I smile slightly and lift the glass to my lips, wishing I was back with the Titans.

"A fraud? Oh, Catty, you do not believe in fate?" He's still smiling but not wholly.

"I believe that we possess something stronger called free will. Our choice of action cancels out fate, or destiny for that matter."

"So it does. Are you familiar with J.M. Barrie, Stephen King?"

"Peter Pan, The Shining. What do those have to do with fate?"

"Everything." He pats my knee again, eyes glittering, as I drain my glass. "A refill?"

"No, I must go. I have guests. Thank you though."

"No, Catty," Catching my hand in his, he pauses and that look passes over his face again, "Thank you."

As I move towards the door I can feel his eyes boring into me, sending shivers up my back. What was that all about? I'm still thinking about it when the sliding glass door to our suite clicks behind my back.

"Oh Catty, where were you?" Starfire hovers over my shoulder.

"With Ashley." Robin says from a corner. His eyes don't leave the game.

"A chick?" Beastboy looks up from, oh Lordy, they've managed to set up Gamestation in front of the TV.

"No, a man. A very nice man by his looks." Raven drawls over her magazine.

"Ow ow, go Catty!" Beastboy's eyes have returned to the game but his hundred-watt smile is blinding.

"Hey, hey," Cyborg calls, another controller in his hands. "Let's curb the _cat_-calls here."

Beastboy seems to think this is hilarious and keels over laughing. "What was the objective of your talk?" Starfire inquires guilelessly over the racket of Beastboy's twitters.

"Oh, she was just _catting_ around." Cyborg smiles as I glare daggers at him over Beastboy's redoubled, gleefully convulsing body.

"It was strange. He didn't really want to discuss anything important." I say to Starfire.

"Sounds like a game of cat-and-mouse to me!" Beastboy says while laughing on the floor.

"Will you guys put a sock in it, I'm trying to read." Raven says over her magazine.

"Yeah, Beastboy stop your _cat_erwauling."

"You stop _cat_erwauling first!" He says indignantly from the floor.

"Copy-cat." Grumbles Cyborg, and that gets Beastboy laughing again. Raven rolls her eyes and decides to take the passive action and stay seated.

"Who is he exactly?" Asks Robin, ignoring Cyborg and Beastboy.

"He's another big-shot in the marketing division. Got plenty of power plenty fast. Now he's laying back and taking it slow. A regular fat cat. Oh no." But it's too late. My slip up has Beastboy's laughter escalating to the point of deafening.

A coaster slams into the back of his head, and his laughter stops immediately, "Hey! Wha-?"

I'm not sure, but a moment ago I would have sworn that marble coaster was surrounded by black magic. If it was, I'm certainly not telling.

"Who did tha-" Beastboy begins irately.

"Somehow I don't think that man takes many friendly drinks with employers or employees." Robin seems more interested in the talk now. You can almost see the wheels whirring in his head.

"No, he doesn't." I assure him.

"It could be a _cat_astrophe!" shrills Starfire from the air. She looks expectantly at Beastboy.

"Oh man, you totally ruined it." Beastboy slumps like a little kid back to the floor and resets the Gamestation. Starfire looks confused and not just little bit hurt.

"You know, we're at a baseball game. Come join the three dimensional people." I snap at Beastboy, provoked by Starfire's unaffectedly pouting face.

Beastboy sticks out his tongue, redoubling his efforts at Gamestation.

"I do not understa-" Starfire begins.

"It's nothing, Star." Robin smiles distractedly.

Starfire and I follow him with our eyes as he reclaims his place by the window.

Keystone: Intelligent yet funny you say? YES! That's exactly what I'm going for! That review kept me smiling all day. Grammar? I'm just nitpicky like that and am the unofficial editor for all my friends' stories which heightens the expectations I have for my own. Meh. Count on you to notice Tina's figure (.). I'm very happy that you laughed; it is my intention, non?

All American: Yeah, Carly, whatever. Little sisters and their obsessions. Love you mucho! MWAH!

RobinRox13: SWEET!

Grumbumble: Catty's character? My view on life is about all that is mine that went into her, but considering that's a big part of her character... She's kind of the result of a (one time only) Mary Sue paranoia. Meh. Thanks for thinking I must be like her though! I do love writing her and probably will continue to, though like I said, this might get Catty heavy and maybe even go into third person. Meh meh. Oh, honeybunches, Robin/Catty is just the first stop on the roller coaster of love. By the end, we'll be playing the blues on Catty's heartstrings.


	11. Kiss me Kiss you

I'm not yet satisfied with this chapter. It might have a bit of a re-construction era, _mais je ne sais pas!!! _Everyone grab their tissues, you're in for a bumpy ride.

Just because some of you expressed an interest...

ORIGIN OF CATTTY: She's not me or even based off me, I just love the name because it's close to mine, but different enough that it sounds a whole bunch cooler and those stalkers out there (Yes you, the one with the rutabaga) cannot find me. She is a lot wittier than I am, because I sit down and think out what could and can be funny (Do you think Abbot and Costello came up with 'Who's on First' impromptu?) Anything else you'd like to know, yes I think I've put about half (no looks to be about 9/10ths) of you to sleep, just ask.

A Cat's Tale

By: Catty Engles

Edition Eleventh: Kiss me Kiss you

"Starfire, when were you born?" We're in my apartment. The game was rained out soon after my little chat with Ashley. Charlie got us out of the storm and into my building before anyone could be mobbed again. Thank the Good Lord for Charlie. Now we're sitting comfortably in the living room and I'm holding this month's horoscopes in my hand.

"At the dawn of the 23rd celestial passing of Kleptar." She rattles back.

"Okay, so that makes you a Pisces." A chuckle from Robin. Cyborg and Beastboy are pelting each other with unbuttered popcorn I whisked from the kitchen. I flip to the correct page and scan it. "Oh, this is _you_ Starfire! Listen, "_You're sweet, romantic, and helpful. And you'd never let stubborn pride ruin a friendship._"

"Yeah, that's Starfire." Robin says from his seat on the recliner. Starfire smiles and flies over to the stormy figure in the corner.

"Raven, at what time was your birth?"

"June." Is the monotone reply. Starfire looks to me and I dutifully hunch over the Astrologer.

"Raven's a Scorpio." I read for a little bit, "Oh, get this, Raven your dream job is in the CIA."

"Quaint."

"Haha, listen, "'_You're creative, sensitive, and deep, but you can be shy at times and a little too secretive.' _" Raven, secretive? I can't imagine. Or ' _You should wear pink, lace, and lots of layers for ultimate peace and prosperity' _Hmm, maybe this thing is on the blink." Raven silently returns to her magazine. Cyborg and Beastboy have tuned in just because all the kernels of popcorn are either eaten or strewn around the room.

"What am I Catty?" Beastboy says. "I was born in February."

"Annnn-" I flip through the book, "Aquarius. "_'You're imaginative and happy-go-lucky, and you can make friends with almost anyone. Your-' _" I stop, grinning.

"My what?" Beastboy leans in expectantly.

"Oka-ay, you asked for it. _' Your dream-date is the brainy guy who's as absorbed in you as he is in his lab notebook.' _" Beastboy reddens under the laughter. "Sorry, dude." I say, flapping the issue at him, "It is Teen_girl_ magazine."

The night progresses merrily as raindrops spatter the glass of my windows. We discover that Robin is a Leo and Cyborg a Capricorn. Stories are exchanged. Laughs are abundant. The night is young and so are we and I intend to make the most of it.

Cyborg wanders over to the CD player in the corner of my spacious living room. He whistles low and I grin appreciatively, only half interested in the happy blabber of Starfire's chirping. She sits close to me, occasionally jumping up to illustrate a quintessential point of her endeavors. Cyborg flips through the assorted CDs and pauses on one, coaxing it out of its protective plastic. He waves it in my direction, asking for permission to put it in. I smile when I see the sharpied title and nod my agreement.

Hansons' Mmm Bop blares over the surround sound stereo system. I jump up and grab Starfire by the hands, twirling her around the room. She giggles, flying to hover around the ceiling. Over the noise Cyborg yells at me, "I thought this was called 'The Best Songs on Earth' What, Hanson?"

"It's called irony, get used to it." Eventually most get up and dance with me. Starfire even surprised me by latching onto my wrists and spiraling me around the room. I laugh through Spice Girls' 'Spice Up Your Life' and some other boy bands whose names have escaped me and then...

Squeaky high voices in perfect harmony squeal, "When there's trouble you know who to call-"

"TURN IT OFF!" Four of the Titans make a rush at the CD player, scrabbling for the power button.

"I cannot believe you convinced us to have a theme song." Beastboy shoots at me.

"But I did, and that's what matters."

Later. Beastboy is running purely on caffeine now. He's downed at least five sodas. The resulting energy is all but bouncing him off the walls.

"Starefire? Raven? Would you girls like to help me in the kitchen? It's almost chow time." Starfire is cheering on the latest burping contest. Tensions are high and competitive spirit is in overdose. This is a grudge match between the Metal Eructer and the Green Belch. The championship is on the line and it's come to sudden-death tiebreaker. But nonetheless, she pulls herself away still smiling and spritely.

"Oh, yes, please! I love the cooking!"

"Raven? Are you coming?"

"I-" She begins. Cyborg belches to roars of approval from Beastboy and Robin. "On second thought." She folds the magazine she was reading carefully and sedately leads herself into the kitchen.

I bow to Starfire and she curtsies back. We walk arm in arm into the kitchen, laughing.

Dinner is passed with happy banter and gentle teasing. Beastboy finishes his teriyaki chicken like he's recently faced a seven-year famine and is now eying Raven's plate as she picks at her food in a slow and measured pace. "Are you going to-" He begins.

"Touch my food and you die." She deadpans, not even deeming to look up.

"Aww, c'mon, you're not that bad of a cook." He beams his hundred-watt grin, and Raven passes him some cornbread from her plate, a ghost of a smile hovering around her lips. I can't blame her, that smile of his... empires have been felled by less.

The night sky grows darker and the Heavens seem to take this as a sign. Pour forth the floodgates do. The light storm has turned into torrential rain. Sheets of it slide down the glass panes only to be replaced again and again by the deluge. Hearty rumbles of thunder and bolts of lightning coat the city in its massive turmoil.

"Awww, man, I am not looking forwards to going out it _that_." Cyborg groans from his seat.

"Remind me again why we live on an island." Beastboy's head falls into his hands as he stares blankly at the pounding rain.

Melancholy settles heavily on each of their shoulders as they start to get up. My mouth is open before I know what I'm saying, "You could always stay here." Cyborg stops mid-stance. My brain scrambles for justification to the borderline insane suggestion, "Well, the couch pulls out. My bed has a trundle. There's two twins in the guest room, and I sleep in a King."

A shocked silence descends over the crowd. And then, "Please, Robin, can we stay?" Beastboy begs.

"I-uh."

"C'mon you know you want to." Cyborg nudges him in the ribs.

"Well, it's just that-"

"Robin, please?" Starfire folds her hands under her chin in the most convincing manner. He looks at Raven, baffled.

"Whatever." She mumbles.

He gives the matter thought, drawing out the moment, "Sure, I don't see why not." An impromptu dancing fit overcomes the team and I, and Starfire even lifts both of us into the air when she hugs me.

"I can take the pullout. Cyborg and Beastboy can have the twins. Raven can sleep on the trundle, and can you and Starfire share the King?" Robin is back in command, as always.

"It's a King. I bet we can fit." I say, pinching Starfire, trying to make her let go of me.

"It's settled then." Robin always has to have the last say. Unhh, boys.

I lend Starfire an old T-shirt I got at a rodeo years past. I offer Raven one I got at camp but she prefers her leotard. How anyone can sleep in spandex I'll never know.

Beastboy zips through our room to Starfire's giggles, pinching me on the cheek and shouting to Raven, "Don't let the bed-bugs bite!" Before being dragged back to his own room by a grumpy Cyborg.

Raven stares at the recently slammed door and grumbles seriously with a face straighter than a ruler, "I'll bite back."

Later.

Starfire and Raven sleep uncommonly still and uncommonly quiet. I stare at my ceiling, my wide green eyes open and very much awake. The rain has leveled off to a dull murmur on the roof, producing a soothing euphony. Perfect for sleep. Somehow it escapes me. Damn the Sandman to the innermost circles of hell.

Throwing off the covers I slip out of my room, pawing at my hair and straightening my pjs, a white tank top and baggy plaid sweats. I don't want to admit it, but why I'm not snoozing right now is that Robin is sleeping in the next room, perfectly oblivious to any of my less the business-like emotions.

I'm usually not this shy when it comes to love. I have enough self-confidence to power a nuclear battery so rejection doesn't bother me. I'm a go-getter.

I pad out of my bedroom door, creeping steathily. I don't know why I bother, Cyborg and Beastboy are most definitely asleep and are currently broadcasting that fact to the rest of the world. Who knew they snored so loud? I pause at the entrance to the open-air kitchen. What do I think I'm going to do? Shake Robin awake and profess my unrealistic infatuation? No, just look at him I guess. Pathetic.

_Shfuwach_. The slightly sticky sound of the refrigerator door opening and the following hum of it's generator turning on alerts me that I am not the only midnight muncher in the apartment. I peek around the corner and see Robin, minus cape, half-bent at the waist, looking at my supply of edibles.

But, there's no sneaking up on a superhero, especially not Robin. He turns with one hand in the fridge and smiles, extracting a soda and lobbing it at me. I catch it, "Caffeine at this time of night? Sorry, but pass."

Robin pulls up one of the bar chairs, motioning for me to take the other and ignoring my remark. He takes a bite of the apple he swiped from the counter, chewing reflectively. I take the seat offered and cross my legs, wishing I had more appealing clothes on. "Starfire and Raven are asleep?" He queries.

"And Beastboy and Cyborg, though, judging from the sound, there might be a few wild boars in there with them." No laugh but Robin's smile widens an inch. It is enough

He taps the steel toe of his shoe against the chair's leg lethargically.

"Don't you ever take those things off?"

"Wha? Oh." He snaps out of a doze and glances down at his shoes, apparently he's never been asked about his extraordinary footwear. "No."

"Peculiar." Despite my earlier comments, I flip open the soda tab and bring it to my lips.

"There are a lot of peculiar things about me."

I smile viciously over the lid of the soda can, "Newspaper ink runs in my veins. You don't want to raise a reporter's curiosity unless you're ready to satisfy it." The refrigerator's hum and the late night's rain patters on the windows as I lick my lips, waiting for Robin's answer.

The corners of his mouth lift into a tiny smile. Apple juice has made them shine slightly, flickering in the changing light of the storm. He takes my arm and with gentle pressure leads me to the sliding door. He cracks it open a bit and the night air rushes in, nippy and sharp. The first breath hurts, drying my throat with its natural bite.

"I love the rain." He says. "I never feel more alive than when it's raining. That's peculiar." I purse my lips and hug my bare arms.

The heady feeling whenever Robin gets close to me coupled with the vicinity of a mortally threatening drop over the balcony drains my overtaxed brain of any scrap of common sense it had left. I'm running on dopamine that's currently being pumped through my veins like wild fire. My body has gone into overdrive and my libido keeps nudging my ego, reminding it that this particularly sculptured male standing beside me is at the height of virility. A thought that assures I'm not functioning properly. Agents don't fall in love with their clients.

Robin's hand never left my wrist and I let it balance there, my skin tightening into goose bumps, more from his proximity than from the cold. He widens the crack so that the wind whips my hair, and pulls me out into the rain. I clench my teeth well aware that we are towering over the pavement below. Heights scare the bejeebers out of me and even Robin's nearness can't erase that fact.

I hesitate, "It's raining, Robin."

He laughs, one savory little bark of a chuckle, "I know that."

I'm backpedaling fast, searching for a meaning, a justification to go back inside. The rain has plastered my hair to my face and my body shivers with nerves. The balcony seems to list under my feet and I fight for purchase, swaying madly. Robin tightens his hold on my wrist. I laugh feebly, "Little dizzy." I mumble, even more aware that Robin has stepped closer to support my weight and his. He smells good, dark, rich.

He steps a little closer and my breath stops as I turn toward him, my eyes meeting his shoulder, the curve of his neck, "Let's experience that vertigo together." He whispers to me.

I tilt my head to look up at him, maybe to say okay, maybe to smile, maybe to laugh, maybe to do any number of things, but they don't matter because whatever I was about to do is cut of by his lips pressed to mine.

Rainwater rolls down his cheek and onto my nose. His hand still gently guides my wrist. A bolt of lightning briefly illuminates our union in the mass chaos of the city. His kiss is confident but gentle, searching. In me he must have found acceptance because he moves his other hand to the small of my back. I reel. It really is vertigo. I move my body, still shivering excitedly, deepening the kiss, but he pulls back.

I open my eyes. I hadn't realized that they were closed. Rainwater dances over my eyelashes throwing the whole scene into a spectrum of whirling color. Robin had not yet let go of my wrist. I stand jittering in the rain, breathing shallowly and feeling exuberant.

His smile is different than the unresponsive grins I usually coax out of him. It looks more like the smiles I see directed at-

"Starfire, I-"

Robin sucks in a breath as he realizes what he's said. All the euphoria drains out of me surprisingly fast, leaving me empty and cold. "My name is Catty."

"No, Catty, that was a mistake." Robin looks alarmed, but also like he's experiencing a revelation. As if he finally understands his feelings for Starfire that I have seen so plain for so long and have tried so hard not to notice.

"But Robin, you and her are complete opposites! We, us, we're so alike, so similar."

And somehow I've crossed an unknown line. Robin's face darkens, his mouth pulling into a snarl and his brow knotting, "Don't ever tell me who I'm like! I am me! I am Robin! I am just like me, no one else!" He's grabbed my wrist again, tightening his grip, and though it hurts I'm not letting go without a fight. A flare of anger rises up my throat against him where moments before I couldn't have felt less mad.

"Robin! Listen! You and her may have a fling, nothing more, but you and I have potential, I understand you!"

"How can you understand me? You don't even know me! Starfire at least knows who I am!" Thunder and lightning culminate into a tumultuous roar, tears and rain indistinguishable on my face.

I know I've lost. I've lost to a girl who doesn't even know she's winning, "Then why did you kiss _me_?"

* * *

Spazzfire: I understand, when you gotta go, you gotta go! Glad you like it!

All American: I'm the elder sister, you do what I say! cracks whip ("kid's show!", hehehe... yeah sibling thing)

Grumbumble: Oh yes, I have something else in mind... To tell you straight up, I have no idea what Robin was going to say when Ashley walked in on the scene. You have an imagination, use it! Thank you, but sadly I've shot down birdboy/cat pairing, for I know I would be eaten alive by the very authors of the fanfics of which you speak. I do not wish to be eaten alive. Hence, there are less violent options open to me.

D-I-WaRrIa: Um, yeah, no Catty/Robin. Umm, good response (picks brain) Uh, I'm drawing a blank, OH how 'bout I throw in a crime syndicate? Sound fun?

Keystone: Sorry, whatever, Catty can be forty if you want her to be. Thank you, thank you, that review makes me smile, I love to make people laugh! Oh and thanks for the comment on my "rammar" I'll try to keep that up.

Instant Coffee: Yeah, I've picked up another reader! Sorry again about her age (see above), whatever, not to keen on the particulars. I worked hard on her being a normal and tolerable OC, glad that it's working. OC s are a challenge to write, and a challenge to keep readers interested in them.


	12. Run

AGE OF CATTY: First of all I need to broadcast this STOP BUGGING ME ABOUT HER AGE! I know she's a bit young, but seeing as I'm only fifteen, I have yet to know what it feels like to _be_ sixteen or higher, so _deal_, I write what I know. Haven't you guys ever heard of prodigies… _well_? This topic has been run to extinction, she's 15 she's young the Titans are around her age they're young discussion _closed_.

Ahem, sorry that was starting to get very annoying. This chapter is still rough, but soon, oh ho yes soon, I will get to a part I've been looking forward to. Oh btw HAPPY TURKEY DAY!

A Cat's Tale

By: Catty Engles

Edition Twelfth: Run

I know I've lost. I've lost to a girl who doesn't even know she's winning, "Then why did you kiss _me_?"

My voice breaks and I stumble back into the apartment. Grabbing my coat. Out the door. Spinning. Tears. Pavement.

I stagger back upright, wiping streaks of rain and tears from my face, sniffling loudly. I hug the overcoat closer to my body and start to walk, letting my feet take me where they may. Bitter emotions are coursing through me and I know I let the situation get out of hand. A professional relationship is out the window and twenty blocks away with permanent sick leave.

A limo hurries by me, one of the few vehicles still in action. Was that Charlie? No, couldn't have been.

My mind runs over the past few hours, disconnected and disbelieving. The baseball game, Ashley Chamberlain, Robin… I refuse to finish the thought, thankfully a distraction in the form of a familiar building looms out of the mist.

Cat Corps, my newly acquired business terminal, accepts my password and I stumble to the elevator and punch in floor 40, cursing the relaxing music, lurching past Tina's desk, and finally pushing open the door to the deserted marketing sector and collapsing in my corner office. My head is in my hands the moment I drop into my chair, but my eyes are open the tears spent and dry.

In the middle of the clutter is a note obviously written hastily by a clumped and uneven script. It reads:

_Meet me at Tigerlily's encounter- JMB  
__At Mrs. Massey's final resting place- SK_

_2 AM_

X 

A musical nine tone warble comes from a plaque mounted on the wall. My communicator is going off, the first time since I acquired it and turned the Titans down in their offer of superhero partnership. Me, in spandex? Not in this lifetime. I rush to the wall and slam the receiving button, "What." My patience quota has been depleted tonight.

Seems like someone else's has too, "Where is she?!" Robin's face flickers with static, but that's not enough to conceal his demanding tone and knitted brows.

"Robin," I massage my temples, keeping one finger on the receiving button, "_What_ are you talking about. I'm tired and am in desperate need of a-"

"Starfire, where is she? What have you done to her?" He snarls into the screen and I blink, taken back by his open ferocity and conviction.

In the background I hear Cyborg, "Cool it, man." Then my screen splits in two, Robin on the top and Cyborg on the bottom, "Catty, where are you?"

My heart beats fast, something bad is happening, "Doesn't matter, what happened to Starfire?"

"This is important Catty, where-"

"What happened to Starfire!" Exasperation is plain in my voice and on my face, my temper is fraying, and adrenaline is running rampant through my overtaxed body.

"She's gone, taken, judging by the struggle."

"I'm at my office but I won't be here for long." My mind races frantically pushing exhaustion and heartache to the side.

"Where are you going?"

"To the mermaid's lagoon."

I remove my hand and the device goes silent. Snatching the note from my desk I hurry out the door, ignoring the musical whir of the communicator vying for my attention again and burst out of the office, checking my watch. 1:44 AM.

In my own little whirlwind I crash down to the elevators, almost not able to bare the relaxing music on the way back down but not enough to take the stairs.

The nearest phone booth lists one bar two blocks away called the Mermaid's Lagoon. Tigerlily's encounter. If memory serves, that night Hook deposited her on Marooner's Rock at the center of Mermaid's Lagoon before Peter Pan rescued her. But who would quiz me on my knowledge of Peter Pan? Why would anyone-

I almost trip as realization hits me. Ashley Chamberlain asked me about JM Barrie at the baseball game. My eyes dart to the note that is crumpled and bleeding from the rain. _Meet me at Tigerlily's encounter- JMB At Mrs. Massey's final resting place- SK_

JMB, JM Barrie, SK, Stephen King, two of the three authors Ashley asked me about. But why wouldn't he just write a straightforward note?

I had started to walk again but realization is dead-set on beating me black and blue because it hits me again_. To make sure that I could come alone._

A neon sign bearing a mermaid holding frothing beers and _The Mermaid's Lagoon_ in bold swirling type hangs outside a crusty building. My throat constricts as I enter the building.

Crackly big band music ripples sporadically from a gaudy jukebox in the corner. A handful of old men litter the bar stools and tables, each intent on drowning his troubles after a long day's work. I make my way over to the bar.

The bartender is a stout matron with at least a pound of makeup on. She puts down a filthy rag and fixes me with a disapproving stare. "ID." She mumbles, sending her extra chins a-jiggling.

"Um, no," I put a quaver into my voice, not wanting her to think I'm threatening, "I was just wondering if you had a bathroom."

"Down that hall and to the left." She grunts. "Don't ask about the bathtub, it's a long story." My heart quickens. A bathtub in Stephen King's novel, The Shining, is Mrs. Massey's final resting place, the place where she dies.

"Your restroom has a bathtub?" I widen my eyes innocently, prying for information.

"Yeah, the bar used to be a house before it was renovated and made over for this dump. Contractors thought it too expensive to remove the bathtub, so they gave the tub the nickname, Mermaid's Lagoon. It stuck." The bartender looks satisfied at my expression and goes back to dirtying the jugs with her grubby rag.

"Thank you." I murmur and cross the bar to the bathroom's entrance. I take a deep breath, steadying my hand on the doorknob and catch a glimpse of my watch. 1:59 AM. Right on time. I turn the knob and let the door swing inwards, following it carefully into the bathroom.

Sure enough, there is a bathtub in the corner next to three grimy stalls, but no sign of any correspondent. The door slams behind me. I don't bother to turn around. "What have you done to Starfire?"

No reply, but a damp cloth covers my mouth, and I gasp in alarm, breathing in the toxic substance. The world explodes into technicolored rainbows and I spiral down the drain past teriyaki chicken, belching contests, Ashley's hand on my knee, and Robin's shoulder, the curve of his neck, his voice, _Let's experience that vertigo togeth-_

_

* * *

_

I moan. Agony pounds across my temples, flaring behind my eyes and concentrating at the bridge of my nose sending steady pulses of white hot pain shooting into my brain. I'm not dead but entertaining the notion. I lick my lips, trying to banish the taste of copper from them. I rub a hand across my face, not completely realizing where I am."So, you're awake." A smooth and droning voice leers from a few feet away. I don't even bother opening my eyes.

"Awww," Another groan, "Go to-." I proceed to express my sincere belief in the position the voice's soul would occupy in the afterlife. Progressive considering my cognitives aren't quite up to snuff yet.

I try to open my eyes as the voice moves nearer. "Huh, reading between the lines, I'd say you didn't like me."

"Read between these lines." I flick three fingers in the voice's direction, wiggling the middle one blatantly.

"Hah, look at the Barbie doll with the glass balls." He chuckles good-naturedly.

My brain tells my body I should be angry and a flicker of annoyance crosses my face, but it takes too much effort to sustain it longer than a moment. I embark on a different endeavor: opening my eyes.

My surroundings are mercifully dark, save for a garish skull looming out of the gloom. I back away into the corner of the cage my eyes reveal to me that I'm in, sliding across loose scree, probably ruining my coat. The skull straightens up, revealing the outline of…

"Robin?" My breath catches in my throat, fear sharpening my senses.

The skull twists into a razor smile, glaring down at me, "One may think. You can call me, for simplicity's sake, Red X."

* * *

Is it just me, or did the chapter seem awkward? Oh well, I'm handing out heartfelt thanks below ;D

Keystone: No, I would not go near your mind with a ten foot pole heh heh. Yes, soap opera, yes, no, bad Catty, I re-read and winced that whole time, but it had to be done, sigh. O is in astonished female horror bad Keystone! Invoking other girls' names, bad bad!

Owl13: Yes losing to people who don't even know their winning, story of my life. I'm glad I've got a Rob/Star fan, keep me real please!

One Winged Kuja: Yay! Kingdom Hearts! I'm a fan. Uh, being witty, erm, personally I don't consider myself very funny in print, so ask someone like Robin Williams, now _there_ is a witty character.

Geodesic: It always pleases me to know Catty pleases someone else, thank you!

All American: Oh no, If I know you, your favorite part is yet to come.

RobinRox13: Yes, but not a very sharp turn, that is also yet to come.

D-I-WaRria: Sorry if Robin seemed a bit OOC, it just happens. I think he acted realistically, but that's just me.

Grumbumble: Ignore your weirdness? But that's all there is! Hehe jk, um, yeah sure, Robin was just about to serenade Catty, yup that's _exactly_ what was going to happen. Haha, can't you just see it though, -Robin whips out a microphone and waves it threateningly at Cat "Don't make me do it!"-

Elisa-Krane: Ah a nitpicker, I have nightmares about you guys. Sorry about the Beastboy slip-up, it is a constant reminder that, against popular belief, I am human. And nope, Raven is on the trundle and Robin is on the pull-out in the living room next to the kitchen. So yes, in a different room.

Quark: Unusual plotline? I'll take that as a compliment.

Instant Coffee: Sorry! Thanks for still reading.


	13. Banter

Sorry for wait (insert lengthy description of going-ons of author induced invariably for readers boredom) anyway, Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!

* * *

A Cat's Tale

By: Catty Engles

Edition Thirteenth: Banter

* * *

The skull twists into a razor smile, glaring down at me, "One may think. You can call me, for simplicity's sake, Red X."

The voice is all wrong, tough, smooth, and confident to the point of ruthless. This can't be Robin. I try to say something, opening my mouth but my tongue refuses to cooperate; the overwhelming taste of copper once again passes over me.

"Tastes like you've been sucking on a bunch of pennies, huh?" Red X is leaning against the grating to my cage, his stance looks mockingly sympathetic and his tone conversational. I'll have to watch out for this guy, he knows how to play his cards.

"Chloroform." I mumble, working my tongue though it feels thick and lethargic in my mouth.

He claps his hands together slowly, twice, "Congratulations, you win a Kewpie doll."

I scowl, standing upright and stalking over to him, stiff-legged, "Look, X, I don't know what you've done to Starfire, but if she has so much as a scratch on her, my lawyers are going to sue you until money comes out of your-"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, what happened to Starfire?" He backs away holding up his hands defensively.

"I don't know, you're the criminal mastermind, not me!"

"I'm not a mastermind; I'm a mercenary, paid to do what I do best. Steal things."

"Like me."

"And, sweetheart, I've enjoyed nothing more than stealing you in the history of my dirty, dirty record." Acknowledging me, he inclines his head graciously above crossed arms. Correction, he knows how to play his cards good, when, where, and how, but, for some reason, I feel like he has a few aces up his sleeve. Yeah, let's just call it a gut instinct. I know my own kind when I meet them.

"So, what do we do now?" I ask, sitting back down in my cage. If I keep him talking, maybe I can wheedle some answers out of him.

"That depends on what I want to do, and what I should do." He throws a meaningful glance in my direction. I'm flattered. My captor is hitting on me. "What we're going to do is wait for Mr. Boss-man to show up, what I want to do is anybody's guess."

I lean back on my hands, throwing my chest forward and readjusting my hips, "Then what's stopping you?" If he opens the cage, maybe, just maybe, I'll have a chance of escaping.

"No can do, I've got a gig to pull off, and anyway, I don't like having an audience." He cocks a thumb over his shoulder, and I squint to see what he's pointing at.

Dust motes float across the feathery rays of light thrown upon the statue of a girl. Her arms are outspread, eyes open, and mouth wide, like she's in the middle of an incantation … or screaming. The statue is in painstaking detail, even from this distance I can pick out individual strands of hair.

"Who is she?" I whisper, mesmerized by the effect the girl statue has on me. It's almost as if she's been frozen in time rather than chiseled out of stone.

"That's Terra." X doesn't seem put off by his demotion from captor to tour guide. Actually, if the circumstances were different… way different, we could have really hit it off. For the first time in a while, I don't have Robin constantly on the brain. "She was a Teen Titan."

I jerk up, "Wait, what? A Teen Titan?" I didn't know about this…

"Yeah, sure, Terra worked with them for a long time, until they betrayed her." Shivers crawl up and down my spine.

"Betrayed?"

"They pushed her away, forcing her to take refuge with a madman, who indirectly made her that."

"You mean, that's a…" The thought is too horrible to finish, X takes the honors.

"Girl? Yes. Terra was entombed by her own power over the earth."

Red X has given me no hints that he has any reason to lie to me, and seems to enjoy telling the story. The telltale liar's signs aren't present either. No shifting of weight, fidgeting, but I can't be sure about blinking. Is he really telling the truth? Could the Titans have kept such an enormous secret from me? Could they have driven such a beautiful girl to … that? Would they do it again?

The last thought chills me. This could be my fate. If they did this to her… I'm almost a Titan…

"She had the power over earth?" I try to keep the conversation light, though X has most decidedly noted my stricken expression.

"She turned herself into rock, did she not?" He jeers.

"I'm not joking." I shoot at him with a look that could wither magnolias.

"I'm not laughing." He shoots back, grinning a grin that could power New Hampshire for a week.

Bested, I sit back against the cold bars of the cage, cross my arms, and study him. He is the quintessence of flippant. I am a hostage, though I feel like a recently insulted dinner guest slighted by a host who will do nothing but smile. Like my alter ego dinner guest, I am perplexed and not just a little perturbed by X's competent but facetious manner. I intend to tell him as much. Whoa, weird metaphor, funny what stress does to one's mind.

"You know what your problem is?" I query, gathering my wits about me.

"I only have one?" He goads.

"You take everything in stride."

"I consider that a strength."

"And I, a weakness."

"And I care about your opinion?"

"You wouldn't ask if you didn't."

He nods, maybe even smiling behind the mask, not admitting defeat, but simply capitulating round one. Then, surprisingly, he speaks, "You know why you're here?"

"Bait for the Titans. Been there, done that."

"Didn't learn your lesson, did you?" I scowl at him, dropping into silence rather than raise to the bait. He lets the words linger, then with a gentler and more sympathetic tone he says, "Kid, I like you. To put it kindly, you've got spunk."

"May I ask what it would be unkindly?"

"See, kid? Spunk."

"Don't call me kid."

"Baby."

"Jerk."

"Half-pint." He smiles at my frustration, obviously enjoying word-dueling with me. I can't blame him, in spite of myself, I'm having fun.

"Catty, I'm working for a man high on the economical ladder, and you are in his way."

That description would definitely fit Ashley, "Why are you telling me this?" I know I shouldn't look a gift-horse in the mouth, but I'm a reporter, it's inborn.

"Because, I know you, Catty."

Realization comes back for an extra round and strikes another hard blow, "How did you know my name?"

"I've been tracking you for longer than you'd care to think." I blink, _definitely_ not caring to think about what X has seen me doing, "You're in big trouble with the boss-man."

"Who is-"

"Not consorting with the enemy, are we?" A gravelly voice accompanied by multiple pairs of footsteps interrupts me.

I gasp, twisting in the voice's direction and come face to face with Ashley Chamberlain… but he has company.

* * *

Still rough around the edges, but the story will be winding down in the next 3-4 chapters so thank you for hanging with- I have more fics in the furnace, and will probably ask an opinion about which to write, though all are impending and I may just tack them all on… nah maybe not- are you reading this? Stop, go review.

A Square: Thanks horsegirl, but I don't think our school offers entomology. I'm taking etymology- study of words the previous is the study of insects. No choice vocab in _that_ class. I'll submit to your request, check my profile, they'll be there. Thank you one who is red of hair for reading this humble piece, and forgive me for taking advantage of your horrendous spelling.

Neko-chan: Thanks Neko, your support in and out of school means much!

Keystone: Urgh, this story… okay so it was late when I wrote that chapter and I was contemplating weird literature, it just kind of seeped in… Well thanks for continuing to read even though… yeah.

D-I-WaRrIa: Why is your pen name so _hard_ to _write? _Anyway, yeah thanks for the suggestion, I'll keep that fresh in my mind but I'm considering a different tangent though I'm glad you give enough time to try and improve my story, touched really am.

RobinRox13: Thanks again!

All American: Thanks baby sister.

Grumbumble: Gawrsh you make me smile, pal! I love it when you love it- warm fuzzies for everyone!

Spazzfire: LOL, gosh thanks for that, I got this review when I was feeling crummy, and you cheered me up, thanks again!

Blackshield: Sorry 'bout commas, grammar escapes me. Glad you're still reading.


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